


Iston i nîf gîn

by Constantine_You_Owe_Me



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Barduil - Freeform, Bickering like teenagers, I spent my whole weekend reading Barduil fics man, M/M, Possibly Slow Burn, Probably an injured as frick Bard because why not, Romance, So this is war, This is a romance, Thranduil is outwardly cold as always, Who even knows, bard is an idiot, but with blood and war and cool swords, i love them, it has taken over my life, they need to get a sense of humour that isn't the combined age of two 5 year olds, thranduil is a dick, what the fuck am i doing?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-07-19 20:17:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 20,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7375924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Constantine_You_Owe_Me/pseuds/Constantine_You_Owe_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dale is under attack and Mirkwood is called on for aid. </p><p>None are prepared for the fight. </p><p>Winter comes and as spring wakes anew, alliances grow stronger only to be built on shaking, crumbling foundations. </p><p>How can love bloom between two if they both refuse the sun?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where it all begins.

Mourning Sun

He stared into the fire as it crackled cheerfully before him in the hearth.

 

How long had it been since he had taken a seat there with book in hand?

 

It seemed he had no true intention of reading, instead the flickering flames hypnotised him into an unconscious meditation of sorts, his heart rate slow, his eyes unblinking as the dancing blaze illuminated the room in a cosy orange glow.

 

Had a whole evening passed within the blink of an eye?

 

It could have even been days, but the blaze had not dampened once, he assumes merely minutes had passed, but what did it matter now?

 

Time was nothing, the seasons meant nothing, and the passing of time adhered no panic to his soul as it once had. A sigh escapes his lips, soft and tired.

 

He discards the book and it drops heavily on to the table at his chair side. From the start he knew no printed pages would hold his attention, and it was not until a light clearing of a throat from across the room did he realise finally that he was no longer alone.

 

"Ada..." Legolas began softly, it trailed off as Thranduil caught him in with his haunted gaze, it oft pained him to see his son, so much like his mother in some aspects and how it ached from the pit of his stomach rising to his lungs to take his breath away until his heart near seized from the distraught feeling of grief it left within him.

 

"Tolo na naur." Thranduil's voice just as soft as his son's, a hand lifted to beckon him close and the young elf moved closer on silent feet. The sound in the room was the crackling of the fire and the breeze rustling the trees against the windows of the library where both elves were now situated.

 

"Ada, you're so quiet and distant..." Legolas trailed off once again, so hesitant to speak his mind to his own father.

 

The king scoffed at his son's words, quiet? Distant? Was he not all those things and more most of the time?

 

"My green leaf, goheno nin, I did not mean to mock you." Silence fell around them as Legolas steadfastly refused to meet his father's gaze, instead favouring the sight of the dancing flames in the hearth, just as his father did but moments ago.

 

Before another word could be spoken between them, a messenger burst in without invitation, breathing heavily, his light weight armour tarnished with soot and what looked suspiciously like dried blood which flaked from the breast plate onto the pale stone floor of the library.

 

"My king, my prince!" He acknowledged both with a bow near collapsing as he did so, Legolas moving to grab him and steady the poor messenger. "My apologies, I wished to not interrupt you but I have come from Dale, their city is under attack, their king he has requested your assistance." Once the message was given the exhausted elf, who Thranduil recognised as the Mirkwood embassy official that resided in Dale, leant against a chair heavily only now wincing as the adrenaline wore off and he felt the aches and pains of war he had not expected to come face to face with in a peaceful place like Dale.

 

"Pray, what foe descends upon the city?" Thranduil was out of his seat, the swish of his robes caused the fire spark and spit with the fresh air pushed its way, the elven lord's eyes wide with concern, if war was in Dale how long before it came to the woodland realm?

 

"Ah, my lord, it is.... orcs." The haunted tremble in the other's voice took Legolas by surprise and he ushered the elf out to a gang of waiting, and quite frankly Thranduil thought, nosey elven servants.

 

Once the other had been removed from the library Legolas spun to face his father, a look of pleading on his face, surely they would go to Bard's aid, after all that had happened in the past between them, this man had saved so many people, surely he deserved it?

 

"We must do something, ada, please!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE SINDARIN I USED:
> 
> Tolo na naur: Come to the fire or come be near the fire. 
> 
> Goheno nin- Forgive me. 
> 
> Ada- father, daddy... whatever ahah just like that paternal figure, innit. 
> 
> Iston i nîf gîn- I know your face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil relents and help is on the way!

Fervour 

__

_"We must do something, ada, please!"_

 

Of course Thranduil could not deny Legolas anything, but these were resources and men that he did not wish to waste if there were merely a rebel gang of orcs running riot in the city of Dale.

 

But who was he to judge the severity of the situation when he had not seen it with his own eyes, how could he gauge the pain the people were in?

 

Their king could be hurt, bleeding, or worse on the cusp of death, the wrong side of wounded. What would the town do without their king, would they lay wasted, vulnerable until the orcs slay the last mortal and their blood soaks the stone beneath their bodies...?

 

A shudder passes through Thranduil, Mirkwood would aid them, he could not let the death of such a place lay heavy on his soul, Mirkwood could not take any refugees should the town be razed.

 

Had his embassy official not come covered in soot and blood?

 

"Legolas, prepare yourself to leave before dusk." Without a word his son turns and leaves the library, no doubt he would leave with a small group of his most trusted arches, Tauriel in tow. Now that he was alone he allowed worry to colour his features, how could orcs have appeared like this?

 

Had they not secured their borders well enough from this threat?

 

There was war brewing like a thunderstorm, a dark cloud heavy with the threat of danger.

 

Rubbing his temples, the king made his way to his own set of rooms, stress gnawed at the space behind his eyes, the peace had not lasted long but somehow he felt hopeful this was a one off, but perhaps his son's optimism had rubbed off on him lately.

 

Legolas shifted on his feet, his brown leather boots dusted by the dried dirt beneath the soles, while testing the tension of his bow, still only clothed in the green outfit that almost became a uniform for him, the material thicker than elven robes but not heavy, though they provided no protection from potential projectiles they were hardier than robes and easier to fight in.

 

He slung his bow over his back as Tauriel thrust a leather chest piece toward him with a tight smile, danger threatened them and she had to make sure the king's son would remain safe while still allowing him to play the hero, though Legolas would never go as far as to claim he was such, he did feel that his help was greatly needed by the people of Dale and this is what had him forge onward with most military tasks, the need to protect.

 

Neither of them had expected what happened next.

 

As they were mounting horses Thranduil appeared atop his elk dressed ready for battle, not as grand as his armour from the battle of the five armies that had happened a mere 5 years ago, but still this armour was for no mere mortal and the precious metal it was melded from seemed otherworldly as it glinted in the sun coming through in shafts of gold through the tree canopy above.

 

"Ada, what are you doing?!" The blond tried to suppress the worried shriek in his words, Tauriel disguised her smirk as a cough and looked away. "You should remain here; this will take but a blink to subdue." He worried not about his tone to his father, forgetting that he currently headed a small army of archers and warriors behind him as all princely decorum fell and he blanched at the older man.

 

Thranduil waved his son's misgivings aside with a graceful flourish of his hand, though a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The elk shifted as though impatient to get moving, with a quiet click of his tongue the elk moved forward heading the group with his son, Legolas did not speak again but did manage a decidedly empty glare at Tauriel who was still grinning though trying not to draw attention to her amusement.

 

"Legolas, your assumptions are unfounded, they are as I said just assumptions and you must not be so lazy as to think you know the way the battle will go, you have no idea what awaits us in Dale. We've not time to question our embassy official on anything and it is likely that adrenaline and fear will make his information useless." This was all that was said for some time as they rode out toward the city of Dale.

 

No one spoke but they all carried the same thought in their minds, they truly hoped this was not war and they truly hoped all was not lost in the city.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard is injured and when the elves arrive he can't quite believe it

Desperation Calls

The thick black smoke obscured his vision, the sound of swords clashing together rang clearly in his ears and the cries of innocents being cut down without even a second glance- it was overwhelming, he had not been prepared for this attack!

 

With a huff he closed his eyes to the stinging smoke tears from the irritation tracked down his cheeks leaving clear lines through the soot.

 

The children were safe, now he had to make sure his city was too.

 

Wincing he checked that his axe was on his belt before moving from cover, he could hide no longer lest his people begin to wonder where their king had gone. Shouldering his bow with another wince he moved down the stairs from one street to another.

 

He'd been hit, one of the first strikes on the city, an arrow right to his shoulder, he's snapped the shaft and fletching off but the arrow head was still wedged deep into the tendon and it hurt to even breathe lest his chest and shoulders move.

 

The quiver strapped to his back was near empty now and the bargeman had to make do with any spare arrows he could find abandoned in the fray, the scavenging clearly showed he had become complacent in the past five years, so sure in his assumptions that the borders were safe and the orcs would not be an issue.

 

Where had they even come from?

 

Underground?

 

Was there a network if tunnels beneath Dale he did not know of?

 

Sighing, he put it to the back of his mind, he'd ask the dwarves when he could...

 

There was no word from the elves, Bard didn't even know if the elf from the embassy had made it out alive, they had been trembling so badly that they could hardly keep balance, if he made it back to Mirkwood it would be likely that they could not manage a sentence or if they did... nothing but the simplest of things.

 

Slowly he made his way down to the square, boots tracking foot prints through splattered blood, black and red. The orcs were fierce but his people would not go down without a fight and they'd be sure to take their enemy to the depths of the underworld with them even if it meant they used their last dying breath was a war cry.

 

"This cannot be for naught." Through gritted teeth he aimed his bow from where he stood and fired an arrow right through an orcs head, it dropped heavily and that was when he saw them, the pale creatures he had assumed would not reach out.

 

An elven soldier stood sword drawn, already bloody, his eyes widen when he sees Bard and turns calling in his own language, Bard cannot see who he calls to, only that he felt relief for the first time that day.

 

But he could not stop, the reality was he had to carry on fighting, they were here but how many had Thranduil actually allowed to come to aid, 10? 20?

 

Taking a ragged breath through the pain of his shoulder he moved down the street toward the unnamed elven soldier who gestured for him to come closer.

 

"This way is clear, quick follow me-!" Bard stopped dead as he noticed Legolas was sprinting across the roof tops past him bow at the ready firing arrows in quick succession, Tauriel close behind, they ran as though weightless as though they'd fly if they jumped too high.

 

"Legolas is here?" Bard muttered unable to believe that the Prince had seen fit to come and help his pitiful city, he loved his people and they loved him but he had always known it was insular, their trade routes were well established merely due to Mirkwood but he had no idea that it meant they would truly come to aid him in his hour of need.

 

"Aphado nin, there is more for you to see." A small smile crept across the soldier’s lips as he led bard down to the square, elves were tending to the wounded, though Bard could still hear clashing steel and the calls of his people to the elves at their sides.

 

This ambush was not yet over, and he longed to fight by the side of his people. A painful twinge reminded him of the arrow head still buried in his shoulder and he lifted his other hand to hold it as though to try and ease the pain.

 

"Boe enni nestron!" Bard glanced to the elf at his side calling out to an elf tending to someone sat with a bandaged up ankle and a few cuts and scrapes, they had gotten out with all their limbs and Bard counted that as an excellent victory for them.

 

His mind wandered to the thought of how many dead and he growled kicking at the dirt beneath his boots, the sharp movement almost immobilised him with the pain of the arrow head burying itself deeper into his shoulder, if he didn't get it out soon he was sure he'd never be able to lift his right left arm again.

 

"Dragon slayer." All it took was that one familiar voice for shock to set in and Bard stumbled to the closet thing he could lean on, luckily it was a sturdy wall and not some poor passer-by, with a wide eyed look that could have been construed as innocence Bard slumped and his vision goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin: 
> 
> Aphado nin: Follow me/come with me. 
> 
> Boe enni nestron!: I need a healer!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard is awake and Sig is on fire

Bone and Sinew 

 

"I am not asking that you take them in to your damned 'Hallowed' halls, I am asking for healers to stay just long enough to help us get back on our feet!"

 

 

"You must keep your voice down, your father is injured and he needs his rest..."

 

 

The exchange between Sigrid and Thranduil was odd, he had never thought his daughter hot tempered, but he was not there to mediate, though he should be the one fighting for his people, not Sigrid.

 

 

Instead he lay, eyes closed tight against the light streaming through a nearby window, his body ached and he felt weak, as though he had not eaten in days. Groaning he sits up, pain streaks down his shoulder through his left arm and side and it takes his breathe away, gasping he tries to fill his lungs with air again.

 

 

"Da!" Sigrid is at his side immediately, she tries to push him back on to the bed but even in weakened state was far stronger than his daughter and he resists for a moment before finally relenting and falling back onto the softness of the feathered mattress.

 

 

Thranduil had taken his leave during the commotion and Bard sighed, he must speak with the elven king soon, as the king of Dale he could remain out of action too long lest his subjects grow restless with worry.

 

 

"You were arguing with Thranduil?" Bard's voice a hoarse whisper, his lips cracked and tongue dry as he spoke, it was difficult to raise his voice any higher through the pain, it seemed every movement no matter how small caused him to ache so terribly. Gods how it hurt and how damned weak it made him feel to be this useless in Dale's time of need.

 

 

Sigrid blushed and nodded at her father's question.

 

 

"Da, I had to say somethin' but... it is hard to even look at him, he's so beautiful!" At his daughter's exclamation Bard could only chuckle, anything more and he'd probably blackout again. "Don't laugh, Da. He's pretty but scary, he can just look right through you... like you're not really there but this time- Da, this time he was just listening to me, he let me talk and the only thing he seemed concerned about was letting you rest."

 

Bard was at a loss on what he should say to his eldest daughter, what was he to do with this information?

 

"The woodland king is no fool, Sig." Was all Bard could supply her with, but it didn't hold any weight, he just felt like a riddle had tripped off his tongue and when he looked to her she shrugged not truly understanding what he meant.

 

In truth, Bard hadn't understood his words, he only knew that they had been the right ones to say about the mysterious elf.

 

Now that all was quiet he took stock of any and all wounds he had acquired throughout his battle with the orcs, the arrow head had been removed and he was stitched up and tightly bandaged, the rest of his wounds too shallow to worry about and the bruises would fade... all in all not too bad. At least he wasn't dead.

 

"Da, maybe you could get through to him?"

 

“Don’t hold him in too high esteem, Sig, he is cold and his motives are merely what suits him best- ah, no that is not true, he came to our aid without wishing for something in return. There is good in him, I think.” The newly appointed king had never assumed there was no good in Thranduil at all, it was ice that barricaded the elf from everyone else, he was so distant, at times it appeared that he was elsewhere in his head rather than in the room with others.

 

But what did that matter to Bard, they were both kings with land bordering the other’s, aid would have come regardless, if the orcs had razed Dale to the ground they would have done the same to Mirkwood, albeit it would have taken them longer but Thranduil had his people’s best interests at in mind.

 

Their safety came first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a filler chapter, or not. I don't know, today had been long and hard and I am tired but I wanted to get something down for chapter 4. So here it is! 
> 
> Thranduil fleeing is kind of funny, not sure if he doesn't like seeing Bard in pain or if he is still indifferent to the king of Dale.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard is up and about and finally gets to talk to Thranduil! 
> 
> FINALLY!

Forceful 

 

 

Sigrid had left him; it took a lot of convincing for her to leave but eventually she returned to her siblings with instructions to let them know their father was just fine but still in need of rest. 

 

Once he knew his daughter had actually left him, he sat up wincing, biting back a groan as a sharp warning bloomed through his shoulder. 

 

How had the elves fared with the orcs? 

 

Was his town safe? 

 

Needing answers, Bard got to his feet and gingerly pulled on a shirt, it was all he could manage as his eyes went hazy from the sharp ache, he wasn't sure if his shoulder would ever be the same again and that thought worried him, he could not become vulnerable, Dale needed a strong and healthy warrior for a king. Pushing such thoughts away he made his way out of the room and down the stairs towards the door that lead to a clean and simple courtyard. 

 

Elven warriors milled about polishing armour or running drills to stay busy while they awaited further orders from their king. None of them seemed injured, the only blood that Bard could see was the black blood of the orcs on their blades and armour which they were scrubbing at with barrels of water provided to them. The majority of them were in good spirits and nodded their heads to Bard in greeting as he walked past. 

 

Before he could reach the arch that separated the courtyard from the streets of Dale his path was blocked. 

 

Glancing up his eyes met with the face of the elven king, mask of indifference securely in place, stepping back Bard made sure to put some distance between them. The ancient did not look pleased as he stared down at the King of Dale.

 

Had the elves suffered a great loss?

 

Legolas… surely he was safe and unharmed.

 

Tauriel perhaps?

 

Before the bargeman could even open his mouth to speak, Thranduil had swept off, not a single word passed between them yet, and all that was required was for the elf to bloody stand still and accept Bard’s thanks for the aid.

 

But nothing was going to be simple, the king was as cold as ever and getting through to him would be harder than digging earth in winter. 

 

As he turned to inspect the damage of the attack on Dale a strong hand gripped his upper arm and pulled him round.

 

 

Yelping from the sudden jerking movement and the obvious surprise it had caused Bard looked up to see the fierce gaze of Thranduil again, this time another elf in tow, looking somewhat calmer than the elven king.

 

"What the bloody-!" Bard was cut off as he went to argue with the elf, but as soon as he opened his mouth the other younger man stepped forward and gently released the king's grip from the bargeman's arm.

 

"I shall take him from here, my lord Thranduil. Thank you for bringing it to my attention."

 

"Hey, hey!" Both Thranduil and the elf look to Bard who was now sending a glare toward both of them.

 

"You!" He pointed to the elf first, "You don't get to drag me away as if I am not able to be out on my own." The elf, who Bard realised was likely a medic merely shrugged somewhat apologetically but they didn't say anything lest they set off the Lord of Dale's ire any more than they had already.

 

"-And you!" Thranduil merely raised a brow, a dark look in his eyes as if daring Bard to say anything that would be out of line to a king of the woodland realm, "You- thank you!"

 

The blond had not expected this and his face went through several emotions before settling for the mask of indifference once again, he put a hand to his chest and nodded.

 

"You called for aid, Mirkwood will always answer." That wasn't strictly true, perhaps, at one point anyhow. Legolas would not have forgiven him if he had let something happen to Dale.

 

As though the thought had summoned him, Legolas appeared at his father's side, a bright smile directed at Bard who nodded his head to him in greeting. He looked unaffected by the battle, but perhaps more time had passed than Bard initially realised.

 

"How long was I out for?"

 

"Long enough that your citizens realised and now you must go back to your rest and let the healers do their work." There was no room for argument in Thranduil's voice, though Bard was already tensed to fight back.

 

"You should listen to Thranduil, Da." Bain appeared as if from nowhere a concerned look on his young face, sheer exhaustion coloured his face and Bard felt a pang of guilt.

 

"Aye, I'll rest and so should you."

 

"The wisest thing you've said since I met you." Thranduil snarked but his face remained blank, though his tone spiked with amusement at his obvious taunt.

 

"Pay him no mind, ada has a sense of humour so dry that fires can start." Legolas supplied easily. He grinned when his father rolled his eyes and swept off.

 

"I think he is grateful to see you awake and well... well enough to bite at him. Relief comes to him and I can see he is not so tense now you are on your feet, but you must heed his words and get back to your rest." With a final nod to Bard and Bain, the young elf vanished off toward the rows and rows of tents that housed Thranduil's army.

 

"Da, if that is his attitude of relief I expect his look of joy is downright dismal."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard and Thranduil are closer than they ever have been and yet they are not ready to call one another friend.

Begin Anew

 

After a few days and too many elven healers Bard was allowed back on his feet and with a great zeal he threw himself back into work.

Thranduil and his army remained camped out in the courtyard, well his army did. The elven king was given rooms in Bard’s home, the grand building that sat above the city that he had, at first, been hesitant about taking for himself, but as Sigrid had pointed out, the place was built for the Lord of Dale and so it would make sense for said lord to live in it.

All remaining orcs that had lingered on the outskirts had been chased away or slain in hopes there would be too few of them left to regroup and plan another attack, and yet Thranduil remained.

There was no true reason for the army to remain and whenever Bard managed to raise the subject with the elfking he merely responded blandly with, “There is still much to do here, we cannot leave yet.” Which was not an explanation and it gave no inclination of how long they planned to stay in Dale.

 Though, was there any real rush? 

 The elves brought food and wine with them, they played quiet music at night and Bard had to admit having Thranduil around was pleasant, having someone to talk to at night that was not a child refusing to go to bed or one of the townsfolk with an agenda was a welcome change. Most nights they shared quiet conversation, not worrying when it died out into silence. 

 At times there would be wine while they spoke into the night, other nights the appearance of maps that would be spread out across several tables and they'd wander around them pin pointing defensive zones and areas that might need fortifying, though the conversation usually dissolved into something more casual as the night drew on. 

 Sometimes the conversation would be about their children, and Bard always found that when speaking of Legolas, Thranduil always had a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He clearly brought great joy to his father, and it cheered the bargeman to know this icy king was capable of dropping the haughty facade. 

 One night, after a minor feast to celebrate something for someone (Bard was not paying attention, he had attended many celebrations in the past few days), Bard found himself inexplicably alone. No staff, no children vying for his attention, the townsfolk were all too busy with food and drink to bother him.

He stood outside in the courtyard a stein of ale in hand, it was a stark contrast to the fine wine he had grown used to, Thranduil would surely be pleased to know that the Lord of Dale was beginning to prefer the wine. With a shake of his head to lose the smile on his lips he took a step down towards the centre of the courtyard, there was once a statue there, nothing but the crumbling plinth was left of it now and Bard wondered if it had once been a proud monument to the city, perhaps an admired figure? 

 So deeply lost in thought at the idea of what the monument once was he did not hear his elven guest approach, then again... did anyone hear the elves approach unless they wished it? 

 "A quiet moment of reflection?" The deep even drawl was so recognizable to Bard that he no longer felt his skin prickle at the smoothness, he did however suppress a shudder which was odd for a summer's eve. It was certainly not cold, unfortunately the elf and his seemingly excellent vision noticed the tiny shudder before Bard could smother it completely. 

 "Humans feel the cold so very intensely." A derisive tone took hold but the edge of his words were softer and coloured with amusement, something was left unsaid between them but the bargeman has no idea what it could be, searching his mind he gave in and looked up to Thranduil who now stood at his side, eyes on the night sky above him. 

 "...and elves seem to take great pleasure in the discomfort of others." Bard's reply was quick as he straightened his stance beside the towering elf. Thranduil arched as brow but did not look to Bard as he replied. 

 "Only when sons of men shiver when there is no cold to threaten."  

 Bard gaped, mouth opening and closing almost as a fish would. The moment left them to lapse into silence and Bard looked away from the unbearably smug elfking who now lorded his victory over the Lord of Dale silently with merely a haughty smirk in his direction, it was enough to probably drive most mad with anger but Bard could only laugh and push away the odd feelings that rose in his chest whenever the elfking's smile was present for only the bargeman himself. 

Clearing his throat Bard turned to look back at the building that still held a fair few of his towns people and military elves, the noise drifted out into the courtyard from the windows, the party would have to wind down soon, it was getting late and his children needed their rest as did he. 

There was no further conversation between himself and Thranduil so Bard moved to take his leave, as he did the elf moved and pinned him with an unfamiliar look. 

As though he suddenly understood that his actions would be construed as odd, Thranduil smoothed his features and regarded Bard with a look that now spoke of ice and ire. 

Such a shift in such a short time... 

"Lord Thranduil?" Perhaps he had crossed some invisible line, then again with elves he never could tell if what he had done had just surprised them or offended their bloody ancestors!

Instead of saying anything that would pass as aggressive or overtly bold he just gestured to the house with a work worn hand.

“Please feel free to return to your rooms, the celebrations will die down soon enough when Tilda announces she must leave all for her bed.” The young girl was so very important in her own mind when it came to celebrations held in her father’s home.

The smallest of smiles grace Thranduil’s lips but it was there for only a second before he turned smoothly to face the crumbling plinth Bard had been so interest in.

“It had been a gift, to the ruler of Dale before yourself. War and time can hurt us all, Bard. You must understand that much can change and yet nothing will change at all. Pain is still pain and some feel it more acutely than others.” These cryptic words only caused the other’s head to haze, if there was any underlying message within the words they had gone unnoticed by Bard.

Seeing the confusion on the dark haired man’s face Thranduil fought back the urge to roll his eyes and to cut short any reply on the other’s tongue he put a hand to his own chest and bowed his head for brief moment before straightening back to his full height and gliding off towards the grand home without so much as a glance in Bard’s direction.

“Dôl gín cofn or Dôl gín lost,” Thranduil muttered though with his back to Bard he did not have to conceal with smile which graced his features.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin: 
> 
> Dôl gín cofn or Dôl gín lost: Your head is empty. 
> 
> Apparently Thranduil uses insults like endearments...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas is gleeful and maybe too hopeful

There It Is 

 

 

Thranduil was not alone for long.

 

As soon as he arrived at his own rooms, gracefully offered to him by Bard, Legolas dropped down from the roof to the balcony that opened out from the bedroom, he was smirking as he sauntered in dropping his bow on a nearby table and shucking off his quiver and leaving it on a seat.

 

“Ada, I saw you leave the celebrations, are the human celebrations not to your taste?” Thranduil could only offer a bland look, once again this night, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he knew his son had seen him leave the celebration for no such reason.

 

“You are shirking your duties, Legolas. You are on watch this night, are you not?” The chiding tone softer than it could have been and his son near danced around him with childlike glee.

 

“I see it, a light in your eyes, does you heart sing now, ada?” Oh such a bold young man Thranduil had raised, his glare made no effect on his teasing son who abruptly stopped, a light look of pain crossed his features.

 

“It will hurt…”

 

Thranduil knew what his son spoke of and with a shake of his head he dismissed Legolas with a lazy flourish, but the man did not move, instead he moved closer to him trying to get him to look him in the eye.

 

“There is always hurt, ion nín. In any case you speak of matters you have little knowledge on. I think perhaps you see too much with your eyes, possibly to the point that you see through the veil in to the world of dreams.” How it caused his chest to ache as he brushed off the words his son had uttered, how it had hurt to know his son could see plainly like a bright summer sun lighting a forest clearing how much he had truly come to respect and enjoy Bard’s company. 

 

Unsure if he had crossed a line, the younger elf sighed and finally managed to catch his father’s icy blue gaze, though he was greeted with no cold, he could see something he could not understand.

 

“Do you trust Lord Bard?”

 

“I see no reason that the elves cannot trust him and form a strong partnership.” Thranduil offered in return, it was Legolas’ turn to roll his eyes which he did very obviously.

 

“Do _you_ trust him?”

 

Silence fell between them, the elvenking moved around the room to pour out wine for his son and himself.

 

“Apparently my question has given you much to think on, ada.”

 

“Yes, I do trust him. He is a loyal son of man and I would gladly return to battle with him at my side should it ever come to that again.” It was not an admission of anything other than respect which did not at all please Legolas, but for now it was enough.

 

“Trust is not so obvious to son of men, when elves bare their souls it is subtle, we are a storm through trees, a force of nature to elves, we feel so intensely but to the eyes of those that do not know of us and do not understand our ways… we are dew drops on a green leaf in the morning sunrise.”

 

“This analogy is lost to me, young leaf. Express your meaning.”

 

“Tell him you trust him, show him something that only our kind might know.”

 

\--

 

Thranduil had chided Legolas enough that the younger elf returned to his watch and left his father to think on that which they spoke of.

 

As though speaking of the Lord of Dale had summoned him, Bard appeared at the open door of Thranduil’s room carrying a carafe of fresh water.

 

“Your door was open, I thought perhaps you were finding issue with your rooms.” The words were presented with a light tone of playful mocking, at Thranduil’s nod, Bard entered the room setting down the carafe.

 

“I have no qualms with the rooms, I assure you I would not have lingered so if they had been unsatisfactory.”

 

“Aye, that much is true, you do not hide your displeasure, Lord Thranduil.” An anxious laugh slipped past Bard’s lips but the elfking merely supplied him with the tiniest of amused smiles sadly lasting mere seconds.

 

“I thank you for your hospitality and in keeping my men cheered with the celebrations you have allowed these many summer nights. I do assume that should we outstay our welcome you will not hide this and speak to me with confidence?” Such a quick change in conversation it threw Bard off for a moment before he found himself nodding his assurances that would do just that should he ever get tired of his elven guests… which he most definitely would not.

 

“I will always be honest with you, Lord Thranduil.” The bargeman hoped his words would back up his earlier assurances, they were not in the way and he saw no reason for them to leave… however, he was still unsure why they still remained within the walls of Dale.

 

It could not have been very comfortable for the elfking and his men to hole themselves up in the unfinished half wrecked city, and yet moods were still pleasant, spirits still high, no elf nor man, for that matter, mentioned the city being cramped.

 

“I would be honest with you also, Bowman.”

 

“Bard is fine, no need for such formalities, Lord Thranduil.” An arched brow was his response before he indulged the other with a nod with understanding that he would indeed refer to the Lord of Dale by his first name, they were familiars now… weren’t they?

 

“Then will there be need to hold the title before my own name, I trust you with my name, Bard. An honour elves do not share with many of the sons of men.” Measured words left his lips as he eyes pinned Bard with another gloriously searching look, the other shivered once more.

 

Bard clenched his fists, composure has been all but lost to him for a that moment he heard the blond refer to him as Bard.

 

“Aye, and what an honour it is, Thranduil.”

 

“Thank you, mellon nín.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin:
> 
> Ion nin- My son
> 
> mellon nín- My friend


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Debts must be repaid. Even if Bard disagrees.

Power That You Crave

 

Summer was coming to an end and autumn would make itself known in the coming days, Thranduil hated to admit it but they had to return to Mirkwood before winter set in.

When he had spoken to Bard about leaving he saw no reaction from the Lord of Dale other than an understanding nod. The elfking was left somewhat reeling by the casual reaction, had he mistaken the feelings from Bard?

Were they not friends, had there not been a single fibre in his being that had wanted the blond to remain a few days longer?

His chest tightened, this should not have affected him so and yet here he was no in rooms pacing as staff moved around him with ease packing away his things.

“Aye, you do look harried, Thranduil. Bain was right.” The elfking’s head whipped around to the door where Bard stood looking ridiculously smug, arms crossed leaning against the frame a glint in his eyes that Thranduil had not seen before.

“Bain seems to think I did something wrong and managed to elicit this reaction from you without knowledge of the words and actions I used that agitated you so.” Why on earth was he smiling so?!

Thranduil bit back a snarl, he straightened up to his full height an arrogant look now masking his confusion, not a particularly good sign to have the king bring his ire to the forefront of their conversation.

“Lord of Dale, you misunderstand my wish to leave for something else.” Not particularly wordy today was the blond elfking, he turning he regarded Bard from the side, cold eyes almost black as though he was no longer worth the time he had spent on him already in those moments.

“I believe I must have, my apologies, Lord Thranduil.” There was a stiffness in his voice as he spoke, barely concealed anger, no not anger, he couldn’t find a word that described it at that moment.

“Perhaps you might take a moment before you leave to share a drink with me?” Bard hurried his words feeling no longer in control of the situation. Teasing elves did not always produce the desired effect as was revealed in this case.

With narrow eyes Thranduil nodded and followed the other to an empty room down the hall, he did not sit when Bard gestured for him to do so and now they were at an impasse, eyes on each other neither of them speaking.

“Childish…” Thranduil muttered though not quiet enough that Bard could not hear him.

“Oh, I’m sorry was the elfking speaking of himself?” Oh, well… that wasn’t much better was it?

A moment passed before both men smirked, Bard crossed the room a hand to Thranduil’s shoulder a strong grip held him there.

“You will be missed, Lord Thranduil. You and your men are always welcome here; I hope that when spring comes again you will return.”

“With less of an army I would imagine.” The blond drawled with a smirk now quirking at his lips, oh how he had worried things would be left soured from their childish encounter, but Bard held no grudges and Thranduil was glad for that. Pleased also that he would not have to voice such opinions.

“Before you go, the dwarves… they gave me something of yours. I imagined they did not expect me to give it to you but I think it is right that you have it.” With a frown the blond watched as a box was placed on the table before him, the latch flicked open and the lid lifted to reveal white gems so bright that mere me would shield their eyes.

The sound in the room died out, it was as though the wind and the birds no longer existed, no sound no movement as Bard watched the elfking move to touch the gems, his own breathing the only sound and it sounded harsh, ragged to his own ears.

“You would have these returned to the woodland realm?” The silence broke, near shattered and Bard found himself staring to eyes almost as bright as the jewels he had presented Thranduil with. It was becoming increasingly difficult to look away and with a sudden jolt Bard came to the realisation that he could not let the elfking leave.

_I love him._

_Gods beyond the veil… I love him._

Internally he was a wreck, outwardly he plastered on a confident smile pushing the box towards the other who appeared dazed and just as uncertain as Bard did.

“This is a debt I cannot repay- Bard…”

“I do not do this for repayment, for anything in return, Thranduil. You are my… friend.” Yes, familiars, friends… confidants to a degree but nothing more. They would never stray from that path together. Bard would walk a lonely road parallel to Thranduil’s but they would never walk together.

The lid of the box was closed and latched tightly.

“I need a drink.”

“Aye, I second that.” Another look is shared, Bard pours wine and they sit in companionable silence for a short while, neither sure what they could say after such a grand gesture.

“It is only right I repay my debt, ask of me anything and I will do anything in my power to have that wish fulfilled.” Grandiose words from someone who had forgotten how to speak at the sight of jewels, but they were not ordinary jewels. Bard knew the vanity of an elf was not so shallow that any shiny trinket would please them to the point they ardently assure they will repay the debt.

“There is nothing I need nor want that you can give, my lord.” And he spoke the truth, he had his health now and his family- the only thing he wished for was- no! Foolish!

“Distraction finds you easily.”

“As it always does when I need it to.” Silence again, strained now.

“I must show you something, Bowman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa this chapter is all over the place, anyway please enjoy!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter comes and winter goes- elves becomes friends and Thranduil is a fire flaming on his own.

Ardent

 

 

Whatever Thranduil had wanted to show Bard was cut short when an elven soldier greeted them at the door announcing that the party were ready to leave. They only awaited their king before they could set off for Mirkwood. 

Both kings exchanged uncertain looks before Thranduil rose from his seat and with a swift nod dismissed the soldier. 

"Time flows faster among sons of men, I have come to understand this... but it does not please me in the slightest. Your short lives, it must be impossible to get anything done!" Bard could only snort with laughter that he tried to smother as quickly as possible, Thranduil had sounded most put out by this. 

"Aye, I am sure it does, Lord Thranduil, and yet we shall see you in the spring having survived a winter and not died out like fruit flies." This earned a smirk from the elfking, he said nothing more but he offered a light bow before turning and following the soldier down to the court yard. 

After the elves left winter settled in and the snow and ice blanketed the land in a harsh yet ethereal glow. 

The people of Dale trudged through the grey slush of the streets throughout winter still going about their daily routines, still trying to work hard through the bitter cold to provide for their families. 

The food stores were well stocked and none were left hungry but the weather always put people in dark moods and many fights broke out next to said food stores, more guards were posted there. 

Thranduil had left a small encampment of soldiers to aid Dale and protect it throughout the winter, Bard was incredibly grateful and made sure to speak to the elves on a regular basis. 

He found that most elves were friendly, they chatted easily by the fires at night and told him about themselves and their families. Bard questioned them on their way of life. Tilda, Bain and Sigrid questioned them on elven clothes and their myths. Bain mainly asked about their weapons and was allowed to hold the bows and swords they had with them.

Over the winter months Bard became friend with a particular elf, Ferendir, he was a good soldier and smart, funny and the children seemed always to be enthralled by his stories which he told while not on watch or practising drills with the other soldiers during the day.

During quiet moments Bard would find himself thinking of Thranduil, what did the elfking do all day? Did he become as flustered and as agitated when questioned relentlessly about repairs to his city?

Bard imagined Thranduil did not have worries such as these, Mirkwood was not a ruin and it likely never had been. There was far too much grace within the blond to even manage to summon an image of him being flustered and flushed.

Not that it was an image the lord of Dale so dearly needed to see…

In those quiet moments Sigrid would find him and the same conversation would trickle from their lips as though they had naught else to speak of.

“Da, is everything alright?”

_Here we go again…_

“Aye, Sig, all is well. Is something on your mind?” His eldest daughter shuffled nervously her skirts lifted just enough that the snow did not soak the hem, unlike Tilda who usually ended peeling her dress from herself after practically throwing herself into snow drifts with gusto at any given moment.

“You seem quiet, sad… do you- do you miss him?” She steeled herself for a snapping response or just complete denial but what came only had her expression fall from worried to bemused in a second.

“I do. More than I think I have ever missed another person… but Sigrid, you know nothing will come it, nothing can.” The lord looked back to his daughter, he’d managed to drag his gaze from the window where snow fell in thick silent flakes.

Tilda would likely be running around in the aftermath in the morning.

“Hmmm,” Her response was brief, after that she vanished off without even a goodbye, sometimes she did that. Falling silent deep in thought as though it had been too much to take in even as though she had been expecting that very response and had to fashion a reply to her liking before coming back with her own comments.

This time Sigrid did not return and after another heavy snowfall, one that lay so thick it reached little Tilda’s knees, spring began to creep in to the air, slowly at first, the weak morning sun did not touch the snow that had iced over, not yet, but the chill in the air didn’t creep into Bard’s bones when he left his bed in the mornings.

Soon the spring would be in full swing and the ethereal blond would return to claim his men and take them home for a rich reward and a well-deserved rest with their families.

Though the general consensus was that the people of Dale did not wish for the elves to leave, Ferendir expressed his wish to remain and Bard could see no reason as to why the elf could not stay, he would speak to Thranduil…

Bird song returned to Dale, animals grazed on sweet newly sprouted grass, children raced through the streets with reckless abandon their joyous whoops echoed all the way up to the courtyard, the last of the snow had melted on the lowlands, only the mountains remained capped with white.

In the days that followed many messengers came to Dale from neighbouring countries seeking trade, alliances and friendship this kept Bard busy, mind elsewhere until an elven messenger, the embassy official, had flitted through the courtyard smile on his face as the bargeman recognised him and greeted him warmly.

“Fuiron! You look well!” Bard opened his arms clapping the elf on the back in friendly greeting, the other beamed and looked back to the entrance to the courtyard where a party of well-dressed elves stood still mounted on steeds, they parted neatly and Thranduil atop his elk rode in, his face dark, eyes on the two stood in the centre of the courtyard.

Bard’s smile dropped a little, what kind of mood did the elfking greet him in today?

Dismounting, with the grace of a dancer, Thranduil approaches the two but does not speak.

“Lord Thranduil, you have returned!” Bard could feel tension knotting the air around them and swallowed down the unease that had crept up into his chest and to his throat, gesturing to Fuiron and Thranduil to follow him into the grand home he still didn’t feel like he deserved to live in.

Thranduil sweeps in to the room, face contorted into a mask that would quell a thunderstorm, eyes flicking from the solider to Bard.

 

"So..." He breathes through gritted teeth, eyes on the elf now. "You think it acceptable to become so familiar with the king of Dale?"

There was the beginning of a stuttering response from the soldier before Thranduil raised a hand to cut him off, fury clear and apparent on his face.

"No! You will not find words to calm my ire." A snarl, a growl whatever it was it coloured the tone of the elfking’s words to something threatening.

Bard finally stepped in he put a hand to the elfking's shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze managing to coax the blond to look at him, the embassy official took this moment to escape and hurried out to safety away from his king.

"Lord Thranduil, I fear something is amiss. Why this anger to such a loyal elf?"

Thranduil paused for a moment, perhaps longer than a moment. Minutes pass and he realises he has unequivocally shown himself up before the lord of Dale… he has no argument; his anger was truly misplaced but… how- how could he have explained his rage?

 _Jealousy is unbecoming of a king_ Thranduil’s thoughts echoed like chimes of a bell in the morning skies.

_Gods, take me!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL calm down Thrandy ur crush is showin'.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get interesting (yeahh I am back on this fic)

Engulfed in Flame

 

With a shuddering, almost calming breath, Thranduil turned from Fuiron dismissing him without a word. He had to explain himself to Bard, but how did one explain their unfounded anger.

The lord of Dale was a reasonable man. Yes?

“I must apologise-.” The elfking halted his sentence when Bard smiled, it soon turned into a quiet chuckle. The bargeman just shook his head and gestured for Thranduil to take a seat. The blond stayed standing, it made no odds to Bard what the elf did.

Taking a seat himself Bard poured drinks for both of them and offered one to Thranduil. The elf stepped forward taking it, unsure why the ruler of Dale looked so pleased with himself. 

"There's no need to apologise. You have ruled far longer than I, Thranduil. While I understand that keeping connections is of the utmost importance. I must be a king that people respect. Not everyone is going to agree with my ideas, not everyone will like me." After having his say he sipped his drink and watched the blond take in what he had said. 

"There was a rage within me that should not have been, Bard. I am truly sorry for the way I behaved. Elves come with grace that no man could ever hope to own. I shed every last part of that grace from my being when I raised my voice to Fuiron." The words flowed with ease, far easier than the elfking had expected. He had always had such an aversion to apologies-- but this time it seemed right and Bard appeared to understand him. 

"Aye, but... had you spoken so kindly to another human- I'd have had a fire in my eyes that would rival Smaug's. I would have become the fearsome dragon." Bard managed a nervous laugh to detract from his words they'd come out so serious even with the smile on his lips. 

Thranduil moved to the open doors of the balcony, not speaking for a moment.  He let the weak spring breeze ruffle his perfect edges for a moment, and his eyes scanned the blue skies as though awaiting a sign. When none came he looked back to Bard with a tired expression.

"I grow tired of this, lord of Dale. The meandering conversations we have, the avoidance of simplicity. I grow weary of your smiles hiding deeper meaning." 

“It sounds as though no good will come of your words, Lord Thranduil.” It was disconcerting how often Thranduil seemed to revert back to his cold and inward self. The use of titles clearly meant he did not feel comfortable around Bard at times throughout their meetings. 

“Perhaps no good will come of us knowing one another.”

"That is an extreme opinion." But it was not. Not entirely. The elves and humans had never mixed completely. There would never be a time when they would ever fully integrate with one another. There were too many differences but maybe Bard and Thranduil could close the gap between the races? 

"It does not have to be that way. We can make good come from our alliance." Bard implored as he ran a hand through his unruly hair. Thranduil does not move and instead he lets his blazing gaze slide back to the skies. He sighs, it is quiet, as though tired but still he does not fill the silence with words.

When words still did not come the lord of Dale turned on his heel and walked away leaving Thranduil to stand alone. 

The echoing footsteps finally faded and the elfking let his shoulders droop, not something he did among company. Thranduil knew he had failed them both at that moment, so close it had been to uncovering something, something that could have changed everything.

By the Valar this was ridiculous!

Vague and unnerving for the woodland king, he had to find Bard.

“What good would it do now?” The blond mumbled to himself so angry that he did not notice the elf at the balcony doors, Legolas cleared his throat looking extremely pleased with himself.

“So, Ada, there is something there between you both. I did not think you two could act like little elflings over such things but here we are, you cannot voice your feelings and he is an impatient man. Remember, he won’t be round forever.” With that fatalistic fact Legolas gave his father a quick bow and swiftly exited through via the balcony doors and back on to the roof from whence he came.

Mild panic set in, his son had no tact at times but he was right, Bard would not be around forever and even if this son of man did not return his love he could rest knowing that Bard knew his feelings for him at least.

Now, how to tell such a man who had eyes so honest that he could appear a judge before any, Thranduil mentally cursed this situation and swept from the room to find the other.

Seconds ticked by and when the elfking found no sign of the Lord of Dale he knew he must turn to his son, or the bardlings for help.

As luck would have it Sigrid was just exiting a room when she spotted him, she greeted him a polite curtsey and a nod.

“My lady, you must aid me for a moment.” Thranduil called out, Sigrid looked around to check she was actually the one being addressed before making her way over. Stopping before him she smoothed out her skirts looking unaffected by their meeting in the hall.

“Are you lost?”

“No, you can’t get lost here, young one. The halls are all straight, there are no twists nor turns, all halls lead to the celebration room—the founders of this city had only one thing on their mind it seemed when they settled here.” Both of them smirked at this, a small moment of bonding between them before Sigrid nodded for him to carry on.

She was a brave one, he liked her.

“I must locate your father; it seems there has been a… misunderstanding.” At his hesitation the eldest child of the Lord of Dale only rolled her eyes, so like Legolas that he could not help but smile at her feeling a twinge of fatherly love for the girl.

“The misunderstanding being that you’re both very, very silly old men?”

“Wrong on both counts, we are not… _silly_ nor are we old and I resent such a comment, Leg- Sigrid.”

“I happen to know exactly what is going on, where Da is, and just so you know, Legolas has been explaining your predicament to anyone that will listen. He is very excited, as are we.”

_Fantastic. Wonderful…_

“Ah, well… then perhaps you are right, we are foolish men.” With that admission Sigrid pointed to the direction of the back of the house, there were private gardens there, Bard found them pleasing and peaceful and usually escaped there to think things over.

Thranduil nodded he would give the lord a few moments to himself before interrupting. Though Legolas and his ‘wise’ words still lingered in the forefront of his memory. Not all had the luxury of time. Bard certainly didn’t…

“I am at a loss, Sigrid. Walk with me a moment, let me explain the matter at hand, in depth and in a way you understand. It is only fair you hear this from one of us rather than my chattering son.”

Bard could wait a moment longer, Thranduil sought counsel with Sigrid first, she seemed the more level-headed of them all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A clash of words and yet another misunderstanding.

#  Dismissive

 

“You love him, I know.” Sigrid started, but at the wince from the elven king she stopped, unsure if she could comfort him in any way she hesitantly raised a hand and rested it to his arm, he made no move to brush her off.

“My lady, this is not about how we feel, it has long since been established that there is something between us, the hesitation on my part- it is not…” He paused, not truly eager to explain his unease on the whole thing, “It is not that we do not love one another, I think time enough has passed that we are both well aware of the feelings between us. No, dear Sigrid. Time is unkind to us.”

At these words Sigrid’s face fell but she did not speak, she could only nod. Thranduil had made himself perfectly clear without having to outright say what plagued both men’s minds so. With this Sigrid moved away gesturing for Thranduil to go back the way they had come.

“He will need to hear it from you.”

Everything slowed for a moment, Sigrid was right, of course she was. It would be painful and unfair for him to send a messenger-- neither men had addressed anything they had wanted for fear of rejection but not out of miscommunication of feelings.

“Ah, yes. You are right, thank you.” At this both Thranduil and Sigrid went their separate ways, Sigrid to no doubt fill in her siblings on the goings on of her father’s romantic life, if it could be described as such.

Bard was sat on a stone bench by night blooming flowers, they were just opening as the sun set, he hears the gates to the garden open and turns to see Thranduil enter the garden with a grim expression on his face.

Such was the norm now.

“My Lord Thranduil, how can I help you?” An uneasy silence fell between them and stretched out too long for it to be classed as a natural reaction of speechlessness.

Bard must have somehow known what the elf had come to speak of, he looked tired, weary of anything that the blond might say to him in those quiet moments, his heart thudded dully in his chest, uncomfortable and out of sync with the rest of him.

“I do not wish to linger any longer than I must on this matter, please understand that once I have explained myself I shall leave without hesitation.” Thranduil’s smooth voice cracked but only for a split second, any emotions veiled beneath the surface perfectly smothered as he regained his composure.

At this point Bard was on his feet and striding towards the king of the woodland realm with such purpose that Thranduil, in all honesty, thought the Lord of Dale was going to strike him. But no, Bard would not do such a thing, instead he grabbed the front of Thranduil’s pale green robe, the sudden jostling caused some of the spring petals from his crown to fall and land in Bard’s hair.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare be the coward I know that you are not!” He spat but the tone was not anger, it was pain, desperation. “You cannot sweep in and out of my life like we are not something. Thranduil… what are you trying to do to me?” They weren’t anything though, not really and yes, they were both cowards. Neither man strong enough to truly broach the subject of their feelings and how it must have grown to agitate those around them, to endure the pining glances and subtle flirting.

“Bard, this is not as simple as we both would like it to be.” Came the quiet reply of the elven king, he was like art, the epitome of sorrow it was etched into his features as though it had always belonged there. “Try and understand that no matter how intense we feel it won’t last forever.”

Bard took a step back suddenly, how had he not noticed the fear in Thranduil’s voice the first time?

This had never been about them- this had never been about him.

“What thought has come across your mind, speak to me.” The sudden change in Bard was confusing, perhaps even frightening, neither of them would speak unless in riddles.

“I’m tired Thranduil, I cannot stand idly by while you whisper like leaves on a breeze, you say things I do not understand or you make it plain to all that you are not happy, have you ever been so. What does it matter now, what does any of this matter to us now?

I love you, there, I said it! I said the damnable words and now you can tell me that you cannot return the feelings because you don’t want to see me die in the mere blink of an eye. Your fear is hurting both of us and while I try to understand it… I can’t. I have not felt this way for a long time, my mind and my heart for so long were plagued by fear never knowing if my children would starve or we would die at the hands of invading creatures.

But, this hurts more. You tug on my heartstrings like a harp that belongs to you- it does, this heart belongs to you and while you dally, a death march, growing ever distant… I feel it beat harder and harder and you do not care that I have placed it in your hands trusting you won’t squeeze it in to dust.” The tirade seemingly came from nowhere, how long had those words been pent up inside him, how long had he harboured these feelings towards their situation.

The elf before him looked so young at that moment. Lost and alone though he only stood a few meters away from Bard, who now stood chest heaving as though unable to breath. The pale green robes shiver slightly as he shifts a mere millimetre.

His face smooths into a mask of indifference; he had to protect himself.

The sky above them clouded over and heavy droplets of rain began to fall but neither man moved from the spot which the stood, unfeeling to the icy rain splashing against their skin.

“I shall take my leave on the first of the morning rays.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys being nerds and they need to stop these emotional shenanigans.

War and the Drum Beats

 

 

Why Thranduil had left such a moment, without any other words than those of his parting, he was not sure. All he knew is that there was the ghost of an ache in his chest that would only haunt him as he thought back to this moment.

A man had opened his heart and laid himself bare before the elven king and nothing had changed.

What had Bard truly expected from the King of Mirkwood?

Thranduil had always been portrayed as a cold and unmoved man, a creature with ice in his soul and a wall around his heart. It seemed unfair to agree with such a portrayal when Bard knew first hand that the elf was not all ice and ire.

There was a heart thumping hard in the other’s chest, one that had felt its fair share of sorrow and hurt, so much like each other that Bard wondered if that was what kept them apart.

Their similar stories, the pain they seemed reluctant to let go of…

With a shake of his head the king of Dale moved away from the garden and back toward his home, dwelling on what could have been would do no one any good, he had work to do, he was a leader his people needed him and he would not falter now.

\--------------------------------------------------

Thranduil swept into his room, a member of the house staff was replacing the fruit and flowers with fresh and they were startled when he entered the room in rush like a warm breeze through grass.

The flowers on the stand shudder, the young woman bowed and left the elf to his brooding thoughts. A set of light footsteps across the floor of his room moved him to stand, his son, Legolas stood arms crossed and a frown playing on his ever youthful features.

“Ada… Sigrid came to me earlier.” This was all he said for a long moment as he watched Thranduil’s expression change from indifference to barely veiled anguish, how he cursed mortal men and their offspring, how he cursed them and their ability to get under his skin so!

“She seemed unsettled and upset but would not tell me exactly what worried her, she merely said our gracious host was not himself and I believe it is likely you were to blame.” Ah, his son had come to grace him with his tactless words yet again.

He was by no means wrong in his assumptions but when matters of the heart were the problem it was best to keep a distance from the heart that was hurting most.

“Legolas, we leave on the morn, it would be best to say your farewells now as we shall not be returning.” The younger elf stood looking crestfallen, he had come to care greatly for those around him in the city.

“No, leaving is simply not an option, Ada. We cannot leave, running away from problems does no one any good.” Legolas spoke in barely a whisper, the icy gaze of his father nearly beating him down into silence.

“Do you not wish to love again?”

“If it were that easy there would be no hurt, Legolas, but you are too young to understand such a matter. I believed you to be mature enough to see why this cannot be but alas I thought too highly of how I raised you.” Thranduil snapped, a hand raised to his hair pulling the circlet from his head tossing it aside watching it clatter on the solid oak table at his side.

“Ada, I see this is hurting you. How is it that you cannot love him the way you wish?”

“He is a mortal, Legolas. His life is that of a red breasted robin. Why would I subject myself to the pain of losing him in the blink of an eye. To not start such a charade would be preferable and that is how we shall proceed. That man is nothing to me from this moment, do you understand me?!”

The ringing silence in the room was stark and left them both feeling empty and cold, shoulders slumping Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose, this was not supposed to happen, he had hoped that he could have turned Bard down, returned home to Mirkwood and put this behind him.

Legolas heaved a sigh and moved to his father, he did not touch him but he caught his gaze and smiled sadly nodding in understanding.

“You are right; I am too young to understand these matters fully but I can see what the memory of that man does to you. Ada, stop and think for a moment. Revel in the quiet we have now and listen to what I have to say.” The youth stood tall, squaring his shoulders as though preparing for a fight.

“Why be a coward when you know you are not such, why not stand and fight for what it is you want and so dearly need… how is it better to disregard a heart given freely and carry on left bereft of love that had been offered with such an ardour it could leave you breathless… why do this to yourself?” The softness in his son’s voice soothed his aching soul for a moment before the relief fled and he felt only shame from his actions and words.

Thranduil knew he was a harsh man, and rightly so when it came to his people. Their survival was key and keeping his kind safe and healthy was his only priority as king, but as a man he too deserved love and warmth that his people so clearly enjoyed thanks to his efforts of keeping them from harm.

What was he to do now?

 

\--------------------------------------------------

Bard wandered listlessly around the city, night had fallen hours ago, and the weak early spring sun that had warmed the city had now dissipated and only an icy breeze chased behind the king.

Something in him did not fit inside now, he had haphazardly put himself together as Thranduil swept out of his life and something was off, was a piece missing or was there something unwanted within him now.

Bitterness coursed through his veins and his chest burned, a sour taste on his tongue as he mumbled a greeting to the night guards on duty, they paid his behaviour no mind as they warmed themselves by a lit beacon on the walls of the city limits.

Now, at the edge of his city he let the bitterness hardened.

What did it matter now?

Thranduil would leave and he would carry on with his life as though the elf did not exist, perhaps find a wife.

There was no use being lonely for someone that did not give you a second thought.  


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas and Sigrid scheme and Tauriel 'helps'.

Echo of the Lost

 

 

A strange and quiet kind of calm fell over the city of Dale the next morning, it was early, the sun had barely peaked the horizon as two cloaked figures met in a shadowed corner by the city walls.

Sigrid huffed with annoyance and removed her hood as her accomplice did the same, Legolas grinned at her and leaned against the wall taking a bite out of an apple he had snagged from the table of his father’s room just that morning.

“He is still sleeping.” Was all the blond said, Sigird only nodded at the information and sighed again heavily. Her hair was up in pins out of her face and she looked pale and tired in the early morning light.

“I know their difficulties have nought to do with us in this respect but… they look so sad. Da hasn’t looked so pale and empty since our mother died. Are you sure you’ve talked Lord Thranduil into staying?” A hopeful gleam in her eyes brightened Legolas more so and he continued to grin while he chewed.

A nod as he gestured, apple in hand, to the stables the great elk his father rode in on was housed.

“That famed beast is unwell, I made sure to have him overeat to the point he is sick, my father loves that thing, we shall not leave until it is well and as long as I overfeed the greedy brute we will shall remain here.” A chuckle fell from the blond’s lips as he expertly threw the core of his apple right into the trough that belonged to a sty of sows not far behind Sigrid, the girl rolled her eyes and did as Legolas had earlier and leaned against the wall.

“I don’t want you to hurt your father’s steed, I assume words failed to persuade him?”

“Well… no. I think the conversation we had on the subject may have given him much to think on. Many times he reminded me I must be too young to understand such an issue but love is love, yes?” The city was beginning to stir and both elf and woman threw up their hoods and scaled the battlements, Sigrid marginally slower than her elven friend, and hopped into a better hiding place to further discuss their fathers.

“I want to leave them to fix this on their own, to discover their need for one another but- don’t give me that look, Legolas. They won’t admit they need each other. We all know they are in love they just seemed to want to completely deny it, they withhold themselves from having what they want. I mean…” Sigrid trailed off looking at her hands helplessly, a sudden thought caught her off guard and she seemed to veil her grim expression before managing to meet Legolas’ burning gaze, he was so sure he knew what she would say next.

“How would it work between kingdoms, they rule different cities and live in completely different worlds, my Da thinks he isn’t good enough and your father doesn’t want the hurt of losing a loved one again. I think… after such an unexpected realisation on my part, that we should let them live with their decision. We can’t make them stay together.” She watched Legolas sag, so un-princely, however he did not deny what was spoken between them.

The blond ran a hand through his hair, Sigrid watched enviously as it remained perfect, flopping into a seat next to the girl the elf only stared at the wall across from them and watched as condensation slid down the moss covered walls.

“I wish I could tell you that you are wrong, Sigrid. Have we meddled so much that it has caught up with us, how have we any right to dictate their lives as they dictate ours. Alas, they know what is good for us, we do not know even half of enough to understand their thoughts on the matter.” Both youths drooped like frost bitten flowers at this, a conscience had appeared like a seedling and sprouted suddenly into full bloom within them.

As they both brooded in silence side by side, a shadow falls over them and Tauriel stands looking at the two with great suspicion. Bow in hand she moves toward them, they greet her listlessly and she rolls her eyes.

“What has dragged your spirits to the dirt?” They just shrug at her question as though the energy had been sapped from both of them within the space of a minute. “Shall I bring healers and your father’s?” Her tone half amused and yet also concerned.

“Ah, baw! All is well, physically at least. Tauriel, can you see what happens between ada and King Bard?” Legolas sounded so defeated as he spoke, Sigrid just felt awful. They had schemed and planned but no person can decide a man’s fate but himself.

“Oh, that…” Tauriel took a seat with the two and nodded. “Is it not obvious to all that surround them?”

The two smirked though it seemed forced, it was true. All knew but no action had been taken to help the star-crossed lovers with their plight. Just as well, the two men would surely slay all that made it their business to speak with them about the awkward relationship they had.

“We will stand by and let them do as they wish, I suppose.” Tauriel began, though her tone suggested she would rather do otherwise. It gave hope to the other two but they didn’t voice it, instead they remained silent and hidden from the rest of the city on the crumbling old battlements.

Tucked away, the three spent quiet moments together speaking of the winter and what they hoped for the coming summer, it wasn’t until the sun had fully risen did they hear guards calling for the three of them.

There seemed to be a panic in the air now and Sigrid gave Legolas a guilty look, they had left under the cover of darkness without leaving a trace telling no one where they might be found. Tauriel stood bolt upright.

“I forget my orders, I was assigned to find you and bring you to the great hall. Lord Thranduil will be displeased, come now. I am to bring you to them.” Before she can make a move toward either of them, Legolas sweeps her feet from beneath her and grabs Sigrid pulling her over the other side of the battlements and down on to the roof of an old abandoned stable on the outside of the city.

“Apologies, Tauriel. Forgive us in time!” The blond only laughed and led Sigrid to a tunnel likely used by orcs to invade the city not even a season ago. Inside it was damp and dull, a single torch was left in a rusted sconce.

With a deft hand Legolas lit it and led Sigrid down into the tunnel further.

“We shall not go far, just enough to have both of them worry.” It took the young woman a moment to realise what the elf in front of her had planned to do, he was to worry their fathers to the point…

“You hope they seek solace in the arms of one another, and I believe I was the romantic of us both.”

They stood and grinned at one another, if this worked they would be in such trouble Sigrid knew she’d not see the light of day for weeks!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel refuses to help Thranduil, but offers a few cryptic words before leaving the two kings to fight it out together.

####  Niceties of Abandonment 

 

 

Tauriel brushed herself down to rid herself of the dust from Legolas’ unsurprising attack, she had seen it coming and let him get away with the minor assault. He had a point to prove, however abstract the plan was, she would step aside and let him carry on.

Legolas had always been strong willed, the picture painted of him in her mind was always a young man with a bow strapped to his back and a keen sense of the world clear in his eyes. One day he would be king and she would gladly walk at his side should he need her to.

Ego intact she hopped from the battlements and headed towards both Kings who now stood side by side watching her approach from the courtyard. Neither had readable expressions, and she pushed away the twinge of fear in her chest at the thought of disappointing Thranduil. This was not about her but about him, her king was weary always and Legolas wished to change that.

“Tauriel I ask you to bring my son and return with naught but air at your side.” Thranduil rumbled unhappily, his eyes narrowed as she replied with only a shrug, it was the wrong move but as she had reminded herself moments ago, this was not about her.

“My lord, I cannot find him if he does not wish to be found- I offer this explanation for Sigrid also, your majesty.” Looking to Bard as she mentioned his daughter, Bard only nodded grimly, he unclenched his hands from fists and sighed resigned to the fact that he would have to wait out whatever immature notion they seemed to have running in their minds.

“Legolas would never be such a way lest something is bothering him.” Thranduil’s voice was cold as he spoke, as though being beside the King of Dale bothered him, Tauriel noted that neither king looked to one another.

Thranduil’s son was not so shallow as to run away when something bothered him, Tauriel knew Legolas almost as well as his father did and not once had she seen the boy run and hide because he was not getting his own way.

This was something else entirely.

The air around the two monarchs was frosty despite the warmth of the sun beating down on them, Tauriel shrugged again, she would not help them this time. Thranduil and Bard were old enough and skilled enough to find their children if they tried.

Why should she waste her time doing such when their children were not really in harm’s way, merely playing tricks to push the adults together?

Even if it did not work, it was a story for the future.

“Thank you, Tauriel. I appreciate your help. I will see to it that I find Sigrid myself, Gods only knows she had this planned all along and dragged Legolas with her. She is cunning in her own right.” Bard chuckled tiredly, he was kind, he never treated her like she was disappointing, he marvelled at her skill and strong will, delighted in her stories and the way she involved herself with his children. Tauriel felt valued in the city of men and it chilled her to think that one day she would return to Mirkwood and be alone once more.

How she wanted to relent, to please the King of Dale, to repay him for the kindness he showed her. A sigh escaped and her shoulders drooped much like Legolas and Sigrid when she first found them. One favour for the King of Dale… just one.

As meek as a parched and wilting flower in the summer heat she put a hand to Bard’s shoulder, ignoring the intense gaze from her King, leaning in she whispered to Bard.

“I will not tell you where they are but you should know… it is on both of you that they are gone. They feel your love intensely. Yet you do not allow yourself to feel it.” With that she vanished off without so much as a backward glance to her King who now almost vibrated with rage, though he veiled it well as he turned to Bard, acknowledging him for the first time that day.

“It does you no good to heed that one’s words, she speaks to you so familiarly.” Though he tried for airy, Thranduil sounded stiff and irritated. Bard just rolled his eyes and remained silent, his eyes still on the blond.

“What does it matter that she speaks to me in such a way, she is not in your kingdom. Here she is allowed to voice her concerns without them being cast aside as though she hasn’t the sense to speak coherent sentences. Perhaps, my Lord Thranduil, if I am to be so bold, she enjoys being here more than she enjoys Mirkwood. Though, Heavens knows I do not blame her. To be with someone that would rather put someone down than explain how their ideas would not work. You are thankless and cold.” The outburst surprised both of them and Thranduil looked, for a moment, lost.

“Is this truly what you think of me, the words you spoke before the moon seemed softer, your lips spouting songs of love, of your heart belonging to me and now… I am naught but ice in your eyes?” If this was to be how they ended things, so be it, Bard thought as he rose to his full height as though bolstering himself for pain.

“Why does it matter how I feel; it has not ever mattered to you before?” His response short, there was no point giving away more of himself to someone that clearly did not feel the same, if Thranduil would just tell him how he felt all of this could stop.

“My presence here disturbs you greatly, as soon as my son makes himself known I will take my leave.”

“Ah, yes. Your answer to everything is to remove yourself from the situation. No, I understand. Why linger…?” Such a childish and sarcastic tone in Bard’s voice as he waves Thranduil away with a dismissive gesture and walks away.

What good was this?

Were they now so very incompatible?

His thoughts ended abruptly as he is pulled back around by strong hands, Thranduil looked as though he may start spitting fire at any moment, eyes dark a snarl on his lips. Bard watches this display, this red hot anger for a moment but before he can even form words in his mind the elfking leans in and presses a hard kiss to his lips.

Such a kiss, how hard his heart thundered in his chest, a small moan caught in his throat as Thranduil pulled him closer locking him in an embrace.

They were out in the open, people could see them… he panicked as his hands weakly clawed at Thranduil’s arms- what if someone disagreed with their attraction, his whole city would turn against him!

No, he had a right to be happy, who he loved would never have an effect on how he ruled the people.

Finally, the kiss was broken but Thranduil was not done, he pressed more kisses to Bard’s cheeks and jaw, now he had started he loathed to stop lavishing the other with affection.

“This is what you want, is it not, my King of Dale. This affection that you crave?” This was whispered hotly into Bard’s ear, a smirk on his lips as he did so, feeling the mortal man shudder in his embrace.

What monster had he awakened in Thranduil?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That chapter where you roll your eyes because 'Seriously, this is kind slow burn but too slow burn.' ahaha

State Of Dreaming

 

 

He had been a coward, Thranduil had kissed him and the King of Dale had fled like a child, face flushed red and stumbling over his words no true excuse given as he hurried away.

Feeling a mix of reactions as he found sanctuary within the library of his home, closing the door behind him. With a heavy sigh Bard took stock of his thoughts and feelings- what had happened had been so sudden, it didn’t feel like love, it hadn’t felt like warmth spreading through body, no relief from the ache in his chest.

The kiss, gods, the kiss had taken the very breath from his lungs but had it been given as an admission of similar feelings, had Thranduil truly felt the same painful ache in his heart that could only subside from the acceptance by another?  

Such thoughts he kept with him as he moved to sit, if the elf was as perceptive as Bard believed he was, he would leave well enough alone for a few hours at least. Or until he could summon courage to look him in the eye.

They both had to collect themselves.

Bard had only moved through time in a daze, Thranduil had kissed him and for a short breath he had no anchor to the ground beneath his feet- but now his mind whirred and each thought blurred into one, could it be that this was nothing, a move to appease him into silence?

Could Thranduil be that cruel?

Bard did not think so, but did he truly know the elven king?

\---------------

 

The elf merely stood watching Bard’s retreating back, a look of entire disbelief on his perfect pale face- how could he have mistaken Bard’s advances so much that a kiss had forced him to turn tail and retreat?

Thranduil would readily admit that at times mortal men, and the thoughts that lingered within them, could be so very confusing… but surely he had spent enough time with them of late to understand a degree of who they were and how they could be?

Surely, he was not so far removed from the sons of men that he could misunderstand simple friendship to mean amorous feeling?

He was seemingly wrong about this, ignoring the whispers and stares of the townsfolk, Thranduil made move toward the home Bard had so graciously opened to him and offered him to stay in, there was a vague terror within the blond, mentally begging the Valar to grant him the relief of not wandering straight into Bard as he moved to his set of rooms.

Thankfully they must have heard him as he found not a single person on his way.

With time and the privacy to think on recent events, Thranduil reflected on how, perhaps, this whole damned situation could have been handled better, but how was he to know the thoughts and feelings of the King of Dale?

But he _had_ told him.

Thranduil knew the feelings of the king, all that was left was for him to declare how he felt and yet there he was dragging this out prolonging the suffering of a lovesick mortal.

Part of him was riled and argued that elves owed no allegiance to mortal men, not in love nor war. But Thranduil knew that argument was weak, even from the rational part of his mind, what had started out as a childish fight over white gems had spanned into a friendship wrecked by emotions neither man could fully grasp.

It wasn’t as if Thranduil did not find Bard attractive, he felt something for him that had his head aching with all the questions it left behind, each encounter scorched into his memory with a heat that threatened to smoulder and smother him into naught but ash.

Being scattered to the four winds in such a state seemed the only escape, however unreasonable and extraordinarily ridiculous it sounded even in thought.

Thranduil didn’t have time to think this over in the fullness he wished, mortal men did not have that luxury and that chilled the elven king, the chill of an ache shuddered through him.

Before he could begin to imagine a scenario where all was well, even for the briefest of moments, he was interrupted by two guardsmen at his door.

“We believe we have found your son.”

\-------------

 

Sigrid sat quietly wondering how long it would take before they could return to the city and to their father’s. Legolas seemed content to sit, he had far more patience than she seemed to be graced with and for a second she considered just getting up and leaving.

She picked at a thread from her dress before trying to smooth the folds of the skirt, she was starting to get used to the finer clothing she was wearing, many of her outfits gifts from merchants, though her prized dress, the one she would likely wear on her wedding day was from Thranduil.

It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen… after all she had eyes, she had seen the Mirkwood king.

Sigrid sincerely hoped that both kings would put their differences aside and even, if they could not love one another, be friendly at least.

The prince seemed to hear her thoughts.

“Tauriel has not come back for us and I believed she would soon, perhaps she is truly on our side with this?” They had been gone for a few hours at least and a search party had not been raised to hunt them out so it must be that the two royals were well aware of what Legolas had attempted.

“I don’t think they’re worried…” Sigrid began as she followed Legolas only to nearly crash into the back of him, the blond had stopped abruptly, peering round to see what had caused him to still his steps she bit her lip.

Thranduil and her father stood at the mouth of the tunnel looking stern and, somewhat, uncomfortable as though truly wishing to be anywhere but at the mouth of the tunnel.

“Sig, are you going to come here and tell me what you were doing down there with Legolas?” The girl looked to Legolas who had a blank expression upon his face, as though someone had erased all memory of who and what he was.

The teen admitted that it did not look good, she and Legolas running off together to hide without warning.

Though she’d rather her father imagined this than the actual plan Legolas had started, it all seemed silly and unprepared, a crude childish idea with no follow through and poor execution.

She sincerely hoped she was not in all that much trouble, but with the mood both royals seemed to be in, she was not so sure.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set a year or so after the kiss. Things are not going so very well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no beta so I do apologise if there are errors in this. Thank you for reading!

Lost Souls

 

 

They never spoke of the kiss, they went to find their children and they parted ways.

Sigrid did not ask her father why he no longer spoke of Thranduil unless someone else brought him up in conversation, and Legolas no longer danced around his father urging him to seize the passion he knew still lived within Thranduil.

Bard, whenever he saw the elven king, would announce that he was a friend to Dale always, would declare the elf was his confidant, his closest friend, but behind closed doors there was silence between them, dead air and nought else.

This was how it was for a few years.

They never spoke of the feelings they once had issue with sharing, there were no longing glances or veiled words.

Everything was plain and blank, all thought and conversation came purely from the surface because there seemed to be nothing underneath, and Thranduil hated it. He loathed this false version of himself and the emptiness he saw in Bard’s eyes whenever the man laughed, or spoke… even when he merely turned to look at the elven king as he spoke.

Bland.

~oOo~

 

Thranduil drained his glass of the last few drops of wine, a cynical eye on the scene that played out before him;

Bard, merrily drunk, leaning close to another a smile on his face as he whispered in their ear, whatever he said clearly delighted the other as a blush spread over their cheeks and a hand was boldly rested on the King of Dale’s leg.

This summer feast was a celebration of trade agreements between the dwarves of Erebor, the elves and, of course, Dale. Thranduil was not in the mood to celebrate, not when his host was interested in trying to pursue some stranger with a pretty mouth.

_How can you be so cruel to a stranger just because your jealousy leaves you bitter, you decided this fate, you pushed him away enough to have him give up._

A faint growl rumbles in Thranduil’s throat, his own mind conspired against him on this night, perhaps he had drunk more than he’d originally thought. Rather than stay and watch Bard flirt his way in to the early hours of the morning, Thranduil stood and bid his host goodnight.

To his surprise Bard turned to look up at him, a small frown forming on his brow. He watched as Bard got to his feet, he looked pale now- the rosy colour in his cheeks drained and there it was- that pain and emotion that had been missing for so long in his eyes.

Before Thranduil could even begin to mention this, the look was gone and replaced in its stead was the shallow smile that he used for Thranduil when he was to visit. Did he truly think the elf did not see through his façade of his?

“A shame to see you leave the party so early, dear friend. We will meet in the morning for our trade discussion, yes?”

Thranduil forced his face to remain still berating himself for almost frowning at the use of such endearing terms when they were so very dear to one another, not now.

“Of course, Lord Bard. This is a momentous occasion; I shall be there to witness.” He swept away before anything else could be said, how ashamed he was of his own behaviour, his own thoughts—but the rage that seeped into his bones was directed at himself, this friendship he had with Bard, it was ruined before it even started.

They might have been more by now.

He couldn’t think this way, he knew that his reasoning was just, they could not be together. Time and feelings were considered and while love was a joyous experience Thranduil did not wish it to be so fleeting.

This was why Mirkwood was never open to mortal men, they brought pain with them with every footstep, they left tracks of hurt behind them for immortals to stumble on and neither party came out of the fray unscathed.

 

~oOo~

 

Back in his rooms, Thranduil took a moment to reflect on the evening, he threw open the balcony doors and stepped out into the warm summers eve air. The scent of flowers on a light breeze comforted him in this lonely moment.

Taking a seat, he sighed into the darkness.

Bard had behaved as always, cleaving to the illusion that they were merely friends like a man clings to drift wood after a ship wreck, though each time they met Thranduil could see the more Bard became a shell.

What was to be said, what was to be done?

He was thankful that Bard tried to keep his feelings to himself, he respected that Thranduil could not reciprocate, he knew Thranduil felt the same way as he did but he understood that things could never be the way they wished…

However, Thranduil’s heart betrayed him at every turn. Each meeting with Bard it became increasingly difficult to understand his very own decision that they simply could not be together, after every encounter with the king of Dale he remembered that the pain would be too much.

Always so enchanted by the mortal that it stopped all logic thought.

The sound of the door to his room creaking open drew him from his thoughts, getting to his feet he moved to head inside, Bard appeared at the balcony entrance with a bottle of wine and a small smile. They had done this many times, shared a drink late in the evening, small talk and the stars.

There was only so much of this version of Bard Thranduil could stand, but rather than turn him away and lose sight of this man again he would relent, he did so this night and offered Bard the other free seat while he retook his.

A glass was set on the table for both of them and the wine was poured, a decent selection from the eleven king’s own stores, mortal wine was bitter and watery, a pale imitation of elven vintages. Bard had always called Thranduil a snob over this but never offered a mortal bottle, likely out of respect for the other’s taste buds.

They drank in silence for a while, each man with their own thoughts, their own pressing matters at the forefront of their mind… but the silence could not continue, this charade of a friendship between them.

“I despise the way that you are.” It had slipped out, a mistake, his mind had been elsewhere when he spoke aloud, wide eyed for a moment Thranduil looked to Bard who had stiffened as he held his drink. The silence continued for a moment before Bard let out a huffed laugh, a mocking tone but it broke midway and a quiet sob followed.

“I don’t know what else to be when you are here, Thranduil.” Bard sets his empty glass on the table between them before he stands up, “It will be best to take my leave now, I want to be your friend when the morning comes and I doubt that will be possible if I remain with you here.” It was harsh hearing those words but it was true, the elf knew how much Bard cared for him it was why their situation was so difficult.

“Please, please understand me when I tell you that my feelings for you will not diminish over time, an eternity shall pass and I will still feel you alive in my heart- I cannot bear witness to the death of another I hold so dear to me.”

Bard did not speak after this, there was nothing he could say to change this. For a fleeting moment he had believed that perhaps this time would be different, that they could find a brief reprieve from the lie they lived.

He was selfish to think Thranduil would do that, it would be unfair to push and push. They were already so distant with one another. Should something happen that would have the elven king leave for good…

No, this would be enough.

It had to be enough for there was nothing else he could accept but this.

“Goodnight, my dear friend. Sleep well.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark clouds shroud the night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I would like opinions as this would be the last chapter.   
> My wife requested a painful ending, however if you want this to end well please let me know and support this fic with a few comments.
> 
> Thanks!

####  In The Summer Time

 

Thranduil was left seated alone once again.

He did not turn to watch as Bard left the room, instead, he poured himself another glass of wine and sat in silence listening to the creatures around him make themselves known to the night.

The loneliness was welcomed more so than before.

When morning came it was as though their conversation had never existed to Bard. The elven king had a harder time pushing the sound of Bard’s broken voice from his mind, that sound would haunt him for centuries.

He was the source of that pain.

His own callous behaviour caused that hurt in Bard’s voice, that sorrow that near cracked the Bowman’s bones and left him aching.

Thranduil surely understood that ache.

It cleaved to his insides like an insidious creature that threatened to tear him asunder from the within, how miserable they both were.

Bard did not deserve this and yet there he was pushing on as though his heart was not crumbling like the ancient city around him. Admiration bloomed in Thranduil’s chest, his heart stammering as he stood watching from afar, Bard was a magnificent king, a creature to behold, the ethereal being that held Thranduil’s heart with such gentle hands.

How could he survive watching this man grow old and die before his very eyes?

The life would fade in his eyes and Thranduil did not have the power to stop it.

With trembling hands, he approached Bard. The mortal king turned to face him a smile already formed upon those pale pinks lips that were so adored by the elf. Nothing else within him, there was a gulf between them, perilous and cold.

One misstep and the warmth between them could die and ice would devour their souls, they would be bereft of all feeling even the summer sun would be useless against the hurt.

“My wondrous host, I bring my thanks for once again giving myself and my men comfort from our travels. Let us not waste time, alliances are to be forged this day, fresh ink to forever cement our kingdoms as allies waits on quills that will be held by the most auspicious of hands.” Such words came forth with no hesitation, the men and women surrounding them were under no illusion that an internal battle raged on inside the hearts of these two men.

No one spoke for several seconds, finally Bard nodded.

“Aye, my friend. Let us not dally now, lest the dwarves become impatient.”

Thranduil forced a laugh.

 

~oOo~

The meetings dragged on, far too long for Bard’s liking but he understood why they did. Every minute detail had to be accounted for, each parchment signed was read over by all before they were passed to Thranduil who too did the same.

The sun was near setting when they were done, the new King of Dale stretched in his seat as the dwarves ambled out mumbling about needing a drink, as the crowd that had come to witness the signatures dispersed the room grew cold.

As Bard settles to let the events of that day sink in he realises that he is not alone.

There across from him sat Thranduil, a grim expression, brows knitted in confusion, eyes dark… so far from the creature he met for the first time that seemed bathed in the silver light of the stars. What troubled him to the point that even the light of the setting sun through the window could not brighten him?

He knew.

Of course he knew.

“Thranduil, before you leave tomorrow, let us sit and talk as old friends do long in to the night. Share a drink with me and bid me farewell for the last time, you deserve to say goodbye.” The words poured forth and he felt helpless to stop them, nothing in his mind could slow the flow of thoughts that spilled from his lips.

“How dare you, how dare you continue this way. All that has been left unsaid between us, you wish to banish me, bid me return to my realm so that you may never have to gaze upon my face again?” The room was silent for a moment, Bard got to his feet so swiftly that his chair toppled but it did not slow Bard as he moved around the table grabbing the elf by the front of his robe.

Realising what he’d done, Bard let go and put space between them, but the pain did not fade from his features.

“You bring up this outrage from within you as though you have any right to it, how many times must I offer my apologies, how many times must I curse myself for how I feel about you before you let this go? Why is it whenever I try to move on from this you are the one that dredges this all up, brings it all to the forefront as though you revel in my pain?!” It was cruel to speak such a way, they were both suspended in this moment with their hearts beating the same rhythm and yet they refused to reach out to one another.

“We cannot go on like this, Bard. This is unfair to you and it is unfair to myself. I think my disbelief of your words startled me for a moment, but, I must relent and agree with you. Let this be the last time we see one another.”

Thranduil gets to his feet and closes the gap between them, as he does this the elf presses a kiss to Bard’s forehead.

“This is the last farewell, dear heart.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what will be will be

####  A Million Little Pieces

 

How long had it been since there was a smile on his face?

How long had it been since there was joy in his heart, or the sound of his laughter ringing out in the halls of the great palace of Dale?

For the most part, Dale was complete, the rebuild had gone smoothly, trade routes and agreements established, and the dwarves and elves parted ways to return to their respective homes.

Of course, some stayed, it had always been the same throughout history, sometimes life can continue in other places and home is wherever it is wished to be.

Yet, nothing changed for Bard…

Tauriel kept a close eye on the king of Dale, it was easy to see emptiness in him when he was alone, though he tried hard for his children who were growing older and moving on to things their adult hearts desired, love and life awaited them and they threw themselves headlong into its open embrace without hesitation.

Life for them was blue skies and open valleys, long days of bright laughter and a future as rosy as can be, no doubts in their minds that they were safe and loved… and yet.

Bard was a storm cloud, thinly veiled pain flowed through his veins each step he took seemed heavy as though weighed down, he was drowning all the while still living and breathing.

Sometimes Sigrid would meet Tauriel in the dead of night, they’d share a drink and talk long into the early hours of the morning, sometimes about nothing, other times her father. It bothered her that she could do nothing for her father and sought counsel from the redhead elf on this, but there was no advice in her for this situation… it was a waiting game.

On such a morning Sigrid stood dusting her dress off bidding Tauriel goodnight when a watchman from the wall burst in calling to Tauriel.

“Please, there are Orcs on the horizon. They’ll be here before the sun fully rises. We must call all to action!” The pale faced mortal had a look of stony determination on his face, though his eyes were flooded with fear.

“Sigrid call your father and brother up; they will need to head this skirmish. Go now!” Bard’s eldest daughter moved swiftly through the house trying her best not to wake Tilda.

 

~oOo~

Bard stared out grimly at the Orcs in the distance, many had gathered but the marched under no banner, deserters and mercenaries likely… he gripped his bow, the wood creaking as he pulled it taught, his son at his side.

They were taking the first hit, best nip this in the bud before a full scale fight broke out.

The arrow sailed over the distance landing true at its target, right between the eyes of a terrifyingly large Orc carrying a crude club of wood and steel. It fell heavily and hell broke out, before Bard could call out any orders they were rushed by foot soldiers smaller, more gangly than the rest, cannon fodder to weed out any chinks in the armour of the king’s army.

Bain stood his ground with the archers while his father blazed ahead, sword in hand, cutting down the attackers with the rest of his men. The sword he gripped in his hand a gift from the king of Mirkwood, a deadly weapon slicing through the flesh of the orcs as though they were made of nothing.

He was formidable in this moment.

As he battled on with his men a distant sound of horns could be heard on the edge of the battlefield, Bard’s heart thundered in his chest, another orc army here to flank them between the mountain and the walls of Dale?

“Sire, it’s the elves!” The world fell silent as he turned to look his eyes caught Legolas racing along the battlements arrows flying- but how had they known to come?

In that moment it did not matter, his gaze fell to a familiar face and his stomach twisted into knots… no… no they made a promise, their eyes would not meet again.

Bard, do not be a fool, fight on. Protect your city! The bowman berated himself, he could not misstep he would lose all he had worked hard for in this one moment he would settle this and then should the elf still linger he will make it known he was unwelcome.

~oOo~

A messenger fell through the door of the royal council in Mirkwood, lucky for him the session had just ended, now only followed idle chatter of the council, Thranduil paid them no mind he was never a talkative man and he would never endeavour to be so.

The room fell silent and Thranduil waited for the messenger to catch his breath, this seemed all too familiar.

“Dale… is under attack! I rode as fast as I could… as soon as the alarm did sound, sire!”

Thranduil moved from the room without a word it was not until he was half way to the armoury that he realised that Legolas was at his side as well as his trusted advisor, he was flanked by sympathetic looks.

“You promised him you would not go there… you said you would never step foot in Dale, you said not until he was long dead would you return. You gave him your word.” Legolas spoke quickly voice so absolute full of hope and thinly veiled youthful enthusiasm, a spring in his step as he kept up with his father’s long stride.

“He is right, my lord. You are breaking a rule you explicitly promised you would not, sire, you are not even just bending this rule…”

“You’ve obliterated it, ada!”

Thranduil did not speak he did not need to explain his motives to them, they knew very well why he rushed to Dale and why he did not hesitate to aid them in a fight against unholy abominations. A promise was a promise but Bard’s army was young, the population not yet renewed enough to support a full army to protect the city walls.

~oOo~

The sun dimmed as storm clouds drew in throughout the fight, rain fell over the battlefield and the men slogged through the mud moving forward toward a safe and happy Dale with each creature they slew.

Amidst the chaos Bard found himself fighting side by side with Thranduil, the flash of white blond hair hurt his soul and he faltered momentarily letting his guard down, in that split second an Uruk seized the chance and ran its spear through Bard’s shoulder, the mortal king crumbled immediately, his vision already fading fast, his hands shook as he weakly clawed at the spear embedded in his shoulder, each movement from the bowman only caused more blood to flow over his armour in a red river in to the mud.

He was bleeding out fast.

Coughing, trying hard to catch his breath he felt a wetness at his lips. Blood.

Was this truly the end?

Was he dying?

There was a howl from behind him, a sickening crack and then silence as Bard succumbed to the darkness that edged at his vision.

~oOo~

 

The mood in the palace was a sombre one.

The rain still poured outside, the city was silent in wait for word of their king.

Thranduil was still in his armour, mud and blood drying over the metal, he outright refused to move from where he stood by the door of the royal bedchamber, Legolas and Tauriel flanked him, not a single word uttered between them.

It seemed they were there to hold him there rather than in support.

Tensions were high already and any conversation directed at the elven king would only result in biting words that would require immediate attention to fix any broken ties with the kingdom of Dale, everyone believed it best to give him the space he so clearly needed.

Hours had ticked by and the blond didn’t move not an inch, the healers inside the bedchamber worked tirelessly throughout the night, Bard’s children nowhere to be seen, likely kept away until the final verdict.

Thranduil’s mind was filled with the jarring noise of a thousand thoughts, this was the hurt he had argued with Bard about, this was what he was so scared of… his worst nightmare playing out before him. This heart aching moment and he was utterly powerless. He had nothing to offer in the form of words, in aid, he stood as though a mere pawn in the grand scheme of things, as though he no longer mattered and had flowed through his life as a player in a scene on a stage so epic that he appeared a grain of sand rather than an influence on the landscape of existence.

From the very moment they had met Thranduil knew Bard was something important he was someone necessary in his life. A prominent figure to which all his heart could belong to, their heartbeats a rhythm that beat in tandem without the hardship of ever second guessing themselves.

He could taste regret bitter on his tongue.

What had they done… why had they fought so hard to be apart for it to only end like this?

This moment would live on in Thranduil as a scar… no a wound forever bleeding tearing him open with every breath until he was torn in two and lived as only half a man once again, this was a horrifying repeat of the life he had lived when Legolas had lost his mother.

How much hurt could one person take into themselves before they simply stopped working, until they simply lost all interest in the worth of life around them?

Thranduil wondered how far he would be pushed… if Bard did not see the end of this day he was unsure how he would live out the rest of it with the heaviness in his heart and the knowledge that this could have been avoided weighing him down.

The door across from them, a healer stepped out pale and bloodied.

In that moment it seemed that all sound ceased, not even the thundering beat of Thranduil’s heart could be heard as he awaited his sentence, would he hear the sound of that man’s voice again or would he entomb the last thing Bard ever said to him in his heart for eternity?

A memory locked in his mind, a mere echo of the person the king of Dale was…

“He is resting, please one person at a time. The king is weak and will need much care… but he will survive.”

Upon hearing this Thranduil went slack with relief, he willed himself to step forward but as he did something within him stopped him from carrying on.

“Retrieve the children, let them see their father, let them know they still have him.” Tauriel and Legolas raced down the corridor, Thranduil took this moment to quietly thank the healer before walking off to the set of rooms he so often used when he had once visited.

~oOo~

 

Thranduil changed out of his armour, washed his face and neck of the blood and mud and redressed in something comfortable.

Just as he was fastening the buttons to his grey tunic Legolas appeared at the door, he stepped inside picking up the long set of robes from a chair as he did so. They didn’t speak, a shared look said all they needed to know.

Thranduil watched as his son crossed the room and allowed him to help him into the fluid blue robe edged in a pale gold, another set of armour for the battle he was to now endure.

He knew Bard had summoned him, this was a war he was to receive a fatal blow in, and it could not come soon enough, to know this was the end gave him peace, no matter how much hurt he would experience.

“Tell him, don’t let this fade out into nothingness, ada.” Legolas whispered, Thrnaduil only gifted the boy with a sorrowful look, yet so fleeting it could have been missed.

“I will speak with the king of Dale only on matters he wishes to raise.”

~oOo~

When Thranduil entered the royal bedchamber Bard was sleeping propped up on too many pillows, he took the chance to sit and watch his pale face dream without fretting, no frown to be found.

Bard soon stirred and as his eyes fluttered open his gaze rested on Thranduil, a tired smile formed on his lips, he made to reach out to the elf but still he was too weak.

“You’re a stubborn man, a ridiculous elf…” Bard began a deep painful breath filled his lungs before he continued.

“Running to my aid, anyone would believe you loved me-”

“I do…” Thranduil cut in almost immediately, no shame in how quick he had agreed with the mortal king, he reached over and brushed Bard’s hair from his face his face held a tender expression and Bard’s eyes became glossy with emotion.

“I do love you, I have spent many a tortured hour trying to prove that I simply could not love a man this way. The intensity in which I care for you, I did not think I would ever feel this way again but you crept into my mind and my heart, you imprinted yourself on my soul and I cannot escape you. A thousand years could pass and you would still live within me.” Thranduil moved from his seat to sit on the edge of the bed, he had fought so hard to avoid the pain it would cause to lose Bard and yet he had come so close to watching his life be snuffed out like a single flame in the night, his light could not go out not like this.

“When you fell on the battlefield I knew then that I could not live this way, the notion that we could be apart seemed absurd, I admit that I am stubborn and I am so very ridiculous as you put it.” He stopped what else could he say, how did he form the words to explain that he did not wish to be apart from Bard again?

“Thranduil, stay with me. Do not turn your back on us again.”

“You will not be without me again.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no beta so typos and anything that does not make sense can be blamed on my 2 terrible eyeballs that need pieces of glass before them to see better but not perfectly aha. 
> 
> This is my first Barduil fic so- it's a jumble of things and I already have ideas of more Barduil fics I can do, but we shall see what comes of this one first. 
> 
> Yes?
> 
> Yes. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
>  


End file.
